


Remind Me (an Olicity songfic: Part II)

by SailorSlayer3641



Series: Olicity in Song [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform, olicity songfic, post Season 4 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSlayer3641/pseuds/SailorSlayer3641
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you remember the way it felt?<br/>You mean back when we couldn't control ourselves<br/>Remind me,<br/>Yeah remind me<br/>All those things that you used to do<br/>That made me fall in love with you<br/>Remind me. Oh Baby Remind Me" ~ "Remind Me" by Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood</p><p>She had told him, "I'll always be your girl, Oliver." Doubt guides him to her door that night, asking questions. She's got a bold answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remind Me (an Olicity songfic: Part II)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers. Here's part 2 of this series. I had originally planned on 3 parts, but it'll be expanded to 4!
> 
> I highly recommend listening to the song "Remind Me" by Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood. The link to it is in the title below.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

**[Remind Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qzhngp7jh8) (an Olicity songfic: Part II)**

 

Oliver stared at the black lettering against the light blue text bubble. He read it once, twice, so many times he lost count. He’d take a sip of his watered down cocktail, replace it to the marble surface, and pull his phone out once again just to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

_“I’ll always be your girl, Oliver.”_

In the distance thunder rolled and small droplets of water started to hit the large glass window panes of the ballroom.

At first he was so excited, but the longer he kept re-reading the text, the more he started to doubt himself. Maybe she hadn’t meant it the way he interpreted it. To be fair, when he’d said those words to her several years ago, he had been in a relationship with someone else. He hadn’t allowed himself to realize their weight. Saying it had been as natural to him as breathing.

He had to know for sure. He didn’t want to make assumptions, and he definitely didn’t want to make her uncomfortable with unwarranted attention. God, he hoped she meant it the way he thought she did. The last seven months without her had left him with a deep yearning. He wasn’t drowning without her, not like he thought he would…but he wasn’t really living either. Without a second thought he was on his feet in search of the source, in search of her.

By the time he had made it outside, the droplets had turned into a relentless downpour. He ignored it and hailed a cab, already having dismissed his driver for the evening.

Within ten minutes he was staring up at her new place. She had only been there a month or two, and outside of escorting her home on a few late nights, he hadn’t had the privilege of being invited in. He had watched her though, numerous times through the large windows of her second floor balcony. He only ever did it on those nights when it seemed like the scars left by Darhk cut a little deeper. He just didn’t want her to be alone.

He could see at least a couple of lights on, so he didn’t hesitate to ascend the steps to her townhome. His heart pounded as he got closer and closer to her front door, each step up his legs becoming heaving and heavier.

Perhaps he was about to make a fool out of himself, but that was the point though, right? That was the sacrifice you make when you’re ready to fight for somebody.

And oh, was he ready to fight.

As he reached her door, he tugged his phone out once more and stared at her text. Rather than knocking right away, he chose another course of action. He decided to text her.

_“Hi. You busy?”_

Within a few seconds, his phone vibrated.

_“Nope, unless you count making love to a bowl of mint chip, :) .”_

At that he smiled thinking about the countless nights spent together on the couch eating ice cream while watching movies. He wanted that back so bad. Oliver counted to ten, then took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

***

Felicity was caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief. There was a very real chance that she had completely misread the situation back at the gala. It might have been nothing more than an honest slip of the tongue, an accident.

And she had leapt at the opportunity to let Oliver know that she was, what? Open for business? Available? Ready to pick up right where they left off?

She didn’t even know. She had been so swept up in the knowledge that he might still love her and want to be with her, that she jumped without thinking. It would hardly be the first time. That man had a way of making her genius brain malfunction. She had jumped out of planes and ridden off into the sunset for this man. She had been thinking something though, each time she had jumped head long into life for Oliver Queen.

What if this was their last chance?

She pulled her freezer door open and promptly stuck her head in it. Maybe she needed a brain recalibration, a shock to her senses. She didn’t even know what she wanted. She just knew that she loved him, still, just as fiercely as that first night together in Nanda Parbat..

With a deep sigh, she pulled the mint chip ice cream out of the freezer.

“Hello, old friend,” she said lovingly before retrieving a spoon and a bowl.

For the most part, things between her and Oliver, post-engagement, had been going pretty well. Felicity had pooled her savings and various funds she had remaining from Palmer Tech, and she was well on her way to developing her own tech industry. She was doing what she’d always wanted while at the same time continuing to help Oliver in his crusade, their crusade.

In regards to their relationship, they’d been towing the company line. They were good friends, partners…a team. Tonight though, when she watched Oliver so at ease and content with his new life, the idea of only ever being those things to each other made her so sad. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d always thought, “one day,” might happen.

Scooping out almost half the carton of ice cream, Felicity realized she probably could have foregone the bowl, but it was too late. She pulled the sleeves of her robe down over her hands and gingerly picked up the ice cold bowl before making her way to her cozy sofa.

Ice cream and Netflix. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

Halfway through the Game of Thrones theme song, her phone buzzed.

_“Hi. You busy?”_

She pushed down the sudden wave of nervousness and immediately replied. As she was sending the text, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to completely ignore what she had texted him earlier. Did he not care that she basically told him that she would always be his and this thing between them would never be over?

And that’s when she heard the knock, his knock. _Rap, rap, tap. Rap, rap, tap._

She didn’t have time to question why he was there. She took one look down at herself and around her living room and cursed to the Google Gods. _Fuck me, fuck me!_ Shoes and coats littered the room along with random stacks of mail and paperwork from god knows where. Her hair was in a wild tangled mess from the hairspray she had used earlier in the night to hold up her up-do. With the bobbi-pins gone, it stuck out in all different directions. And under her robe, she was wearing his shirt. The shirt she supposedly “lost” after their break-up but had actually kept.

“Coming!” she shouted before leaping up in a hurry to collect as many things as she could.

In her haste, she stubbed her toe on the coffee table and this time she cursed aloud.

“Fuck me-e-e-e!” she yelled out as she collapsed back on to the sofa, pulling her foot up to her lap for inspection and some TLC.

“Felicity, are you okay?”

Even his muffled voice through the thick hardwood door sounded concerned and afraid for her well being. There was that feeling again. She exists. She matters. The more she thought about that feeling though, the more she considered the possibility that she only felt that way because she mattered to him.

She looked woefully at her messy abode and gave up. Trudging herself up from her couch and to the door, she answered him.

“I’m okay, I’m coming.”

Once she was at her door, she straightened her robe and retied it. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the shirt based on the bit of collar sticking out at the top. Taking one last calming breath, she undid all of her locks and pulled her door open.

She was not at all ready to see a soaking wet Oliver Queen, his white button down shirt clinging to his biceps and abs, his hair dripping droplets of water down his face. She felt her forehead wrinkle and she knew she was just standing there, staring at him, but she couldn’t not stare.

…until he cleared his throat and heat immediately rushed up her neck and over her face.

“Uh…I…Hi!” she finally stammered out enthusiastically, proud of herself for coming up with the single word, which he copied back to her with an amused look on his face.

“Hi.”

One word. She choked over it and he manages to make it sound like a sonnet.

“Hi,” she replied dreamily a second time. Then she realized how silly she must have sounded, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“I mean, _hi_ , hi. Hi. Oh god, that’s too many hi’s. Make me stop,” she begged.

She heard him huff out a laugh at her expense, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care when he smiled like that.

“May I?” he asked, nodding his head towards the inside of her townhome.

She bit her lip and then smiled nervously stepping back and allowing him to step inside.

“I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. Can I get you some towels, a dry shirt…maybe a cup of coffee?” she asked as she closed the door and re-locked all of her locks.

She turned around to follow him into her living room where she assumed he had gone, only to find him blocking her path, like the brick wall that he is.

She looked up at him and got lost in his steady stare. There was so much love and need reflecting back at her in those deep blue eyes. Her heart pounded hard against her chest and her throat went dry. She watched as he took measured breaths through his nose, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. It reminded her of the night of the siege, and Slade, and fake-but-not-fake ‘I love you’s.’ She didn’t say anything, too afraid of what treacherous words might tumble from her mouth. As it turned out, he’s the one that broke the heady silence.

“Nice shirt.”

She shook her head and laughed to herself. Of course he noticed. She looked back up at him, well aware of the blush on her cheeks, but attempted to apologize nonetheless.

“About that…I’m-” she started, but was cut off by Oliver’s desperate question.

“Did you mean it?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow…,” she trailed off confused. She was concerned about the urgency in his voice.

“The text,” he ground out. “Did you mean it? Because I need to know, Felicity. This thing between us, it’s precarious. It’s barely balanced, and it’s been working, but only because I thought I had lost you forever. I need to know for sure. Are you over us? Are you over _me_?”

Felicity’s head was dizzy with his words. For the first time in a long time, she saw a man who wasn’t composed, who didn’t know what was up or down.

She answered honestly, truthfully, and the only way she knew how.

“Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you.”

And then she did the only thing that made sense.

Her hands cupped his face and she leaned forward on her tippy toes crashing her lips to his for the first time in over seven months.

***

When Oliver hears her yelp and curse in pain, he fights the instinct to kick down her door. Instead he calmly asks her if she’s okay. He breathes a sigh of relief when she answers and hears her various locks sliding out of place.

He realizes too late that he looks like something that a cat might drag in, all slobbery and dripping. His shoes squeak under him and his shirt sticks to him uncomfortably. Maybe he should have considered an umbrella or gone home for a change of clothes.

Then he sees her, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp in her foyer. He hasn’t seen her in casual clothes in so long, and he’s just as in awe of her now as he was earlier at the gala. Her hair is wild and he thinks he recognizes one of his old t-shirts poking out from under her robe. He forgets about the shirt when he notices her forehead do that wrinkle thing it does whenever he’s on the salmon ladder. She’s ogling him…and he likes it.

Unfortunately, he can’t take the time to tease her about it. He has to know where they stand.

He’s able to hold himself back through her adorable greeting and the way her eyes shine bluer when her cheeks flush in embarrassment. He commends himself for not grabbing her by the waist and hauling her to him, crushing his mouth to hers. That’s what he wishes he could do.

All of his control is starting to slip. The past few months he’s been able to push everything down inside himself, focus on his job and focus on their work. He’s been able to lock down his uncontrollable attraction to her. He’s found that if he doesn’t stare at her lips longer than three seconds, he can look away and continue on with whatever conversation they’re having. He had a system. _One, two, three, look away._

That control is tenuous and dependent on his belief that she no longer loves him or wants him. At least it was until tonight.

He manages to get inside and get her full attention. He explains to her, or he tries to explain the why and the what of his question, the reason for him showing up at her home late at night uninvited. Doesn’t she understand? He can’t deal in maybe’s, not even for one night. He barely survived the year before last when it seemed like every other week they were on again, off again. He ignores that voice inside of him that reminds him that it had been all his fault. He had tortured her with maybe’s. He hadn’t deserved a second chance, or a third…or this one.

He stares down at her beautiful face clear of makeup, patiently waiting for her to answer him. He’s counting, one, two, three… _four, five, six._ He licks his lips, about to do something irrational. Her voice stops him.

Elegantly, boldly…she finally answers him.

“Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you.”

For a second he closes his eyes and ignores the stinging sensation behind them. He blinks down at her slowly as hope starts to bubble up his chest, because she’s looking back at him with determination. Her steely gaze tells him that she stands by what she said.

She loves him, _still._

Softly, alluringly…she touches his face and pulls him down to meet her waiting lips.

He whimpers against her soft mouth, and her kiss, their first kiss in so long, is like a salvation.

***

A thrill of excitement shot through Felicity as the kiss deepened. Unlike their first kiss, this one felt new and exciting, not like a goodbye. Butterflies filled her stomach as she felt his arm wrap around her back and pull her closer. She was in his arms again and it felt like coming home and starting over all at once. They were different. This was different.

Not so delicately, she turned them and pushed him against her door, her hands roving over his wet dress shirt feeling all of the hard planes that she loved so much. When her hands reached his head and her fingers splayed through his damp hair, she pressed the length of herself against him, eliciting a moan from him and herself.

Between nips and licks, she vaguely heard Oliver try to talk to her.

“Maybe…we should…slow…down,” he suggested breathlessly.

“Yea…maybe,” she said through a grin as her hand slid down his front to settle on his upper thigh, “Or maybe not.”

She massaged it gently, not at all surprised by the soft growl she heard shortly after.

She was, however, surprised by his swift movements that suddenly had her pinned to the door instead of him, his lips re-capturing hers possessively.

Her brain was in a haze, his haze, the one that his kisses make that shuts out the rest of the world, all of her thoughts and worries. He’s everywhere at once, kissing her, touching her. His rain-soaked smell covers her like a warm blanket.

And then his lips move to his favorite spot, _the_ spot, the one just below her ear on her neck, and that’s about the time her knees go wobbly like a damn cliche. In an instant she’s suspended between him and the door, her legs dangling and her hands keeping his head glued to that one spot. She rolls her hips against his and he bites down lightly on her neck before gripping her thighs like a vice and wrapping her legs around his waist.

They were dangerously close to the point of no return, and Felicity didn’t care.

Unfortunately for her, Oliver did.

Stopping the toe-curling pleasure he was lavishing on her neck, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. The space around them was quiet with the exception of their heaving breaths. He dropped a gentle kiss on her nose and smiled drunkenly back at her.

“Hi,” he said casually.

And that’s when she burst out in giggles.

As she looked back at him, his face light and full of happiness, she knew that she was in love with him, but there was something different in his smile and the way he was holding himself. She wanted to get to know this Oliver.

Slowly, he lowered her back to earth and backed himself up to the foyer wall, clasping his hands in front of him.

She couldn’t help but stare at him as he stood there looking down at his hands, a ghost of a smile on his downturned face. He was so handsome leaning there so casually with one leg crossed over the other, propping himself up against her wall…like he belonged there.

“So…” she says trying to fill the silence. Where do they go from here?

“I hate it. I hate being single, Felicity,” she hears him say matter-of-factly. “I’m doing okay, but I don’t want to settle for okay. Do you remember how it used to be, last summer…that was more than okay. That was…” he trails off, failing to find the right word to express that time of euphoria.

She understands.

She knows what she wants now. She knows what her text had meant now.

“Remind me,” she says, but it comes out more like a desperate plea. She wants to feel that way again.

He holds his arms out to her and she scrambles into them without hesitation. For several moments they just hold each other and it’s so soothing and comforting.

She feels him pull back a little to look down at her. As he tucks a wild hair behind her ear, his eyes become sincere and determined, like he has a new mission in life.

“I can do that. I _will_ do that.”

Then he’s smiling cockily, his eyes deliciously devious as he leans down, bringing their cheeks together. She can feel the warmth of his breath on her ear, just like earlier tonight at the gala. She chokes back a whine that she should be embarrassed of, but when he’s this close, it seems she can’t find the energy to care.

“I’m going to treat you the way you deserved to be treated, the way a woman deserves to be treated by the man who loves her, and we’re going to find ourselves, our new selves, in each other again. I promise you.”

“Prepare yourself to be woo’d, Miss Smoak,” he warns her, just before landing a teasing kiss under her ear.

He’s backed out of her space, and she’s at a loss for words, opening and closing her mouth, but failing to emit any sound. She hears him sliding her locks out of place, but she just stares dumbly and watches him open the door.

He turns, standing just outside of her door, humidity from the late summer rain streaming in.

“Goodnight, Felicity.”

And then he’s disappearing down her walkway, his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling casually as he walks off.

When reality comes back to her, her stomach flops in anticipation.

_Oliver Queen is going to “woo” her._


End file.
